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shouts, the tumult, the dull and indistinct sounds, to the
things that were said: ‘It is cavalry,’ or: ‘Those are the cais-
sons galloping,’ to the trumpets, the drums, the firing, and,
above all, to that lamentable alarm peal from Saint-Merry.
They waited for the first cannon-shot. Men sprang up at
the corners of the streets and disappeared, shouting: ‘Go
home!’ And people made haste to bolt their doors. They
said: ‘How will all this end?’ From moment to moment, in
proportion as the darkness descended, Paris seemed to take
on a more mournful hue from the formidable flaming of
the revolt.